


Howl

by Leafling



Series: PWP [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bill is kind of a werewolf, Dubious Consent, Full Moon, Infidelity, Light Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Werewolf Senses, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafling/pseuds/Leafling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changes were always going to be hard; Charlie just wanted to do whatever he could to ease Bill's suffering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howl

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even remember why I wrote this...

Agony… this radiating, burning, coiling agony; it was all he felt. 

Every night of the full moon, Bill was seized in a tight vice by this otherworldly torture. Pain unlike anything he could ever imagine—pain that he daren’t wish on even his enemies. Like the fire of hell was scorching the hollow of his bones. It was truly unbearable. 

Bill ached to tear from his skin. His was burning, sweat and blood staining the sheets beneath him. Somewhere deep beneath his skin itched as though he’d been bitten by millions of fire ants all at once. He clawed savagely at his chest, aching to release the beast within, leaving crimson streaks across his already scarred flesh. His sharp, jagged nails sometimes caught the edge of one of the barely healed wounds that covered his body—some were from a night previous; others from a previous lunar cycle. They were ripped open anew all the same. 

The air was heavy with the metallic twang of sweat and Bill’s own tainted blood; the sounds of the bed creaking underneath Bill’s writhing form, the sounds of his howls and shouts in agony. Guttural and feral; his voice echoed throughout the otherwise empty house ominously. 

As the full moon begun to break the clouds, Bill felt himself grow more violent—angrier. The agony doubled, and with it came a wave of unappeasable hunger; leaving a deep and longing ache in his gut, a resonating feeling of deprivation; as though he’d been starved for hundreds of years. 

Bill longed to run amongst the thick forestry and to feel the night’s air wash over him. He needed to sink his teeth into something, feel the pounding of his quarry’s pulse underneath his teeth right before he bit down hard, severing its jugular and draining all its precious lifeblood from its neck. 

Bill needed his mate; every fiber of his being burned to hold Fleur—to kiss her and to touch her. To bear down on her with all his weight and bite the nape of her neck to keep her still as he took her like a beast.

Had Bill been thinking straight, he would have been horror-struck at himself—at the very notion that he could think of something so foul. He would never hurt Fleur… that’s why he sent her and their daughter away; why he lay bound to the bed to suffer through whatever _this_ was in excruciating solitude. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt one of them.

Moonlight poured in through the slit in the curtains, bathing Bill in its ethereal light. Bill clenched his eyes shut at the sight of the moon, his whole body convulsing with overwhelming want. His back arching unnaturally as he struggled against the magical bindings that held him fast onto the bed. Bill’s bloodlust reached its crisis point. 

He needed to—needed to…

The smell of floo powder met his nose even before he could comprehend just where the odor was coming from. Bill’s eyes flew open. His head snapped to the door as his ears strained to hear the familiar sound of Charlie’s footsteps approaching the bedroom door over the loud thudding of his heartbeat in his head. Charlie’s footfall was loud, urgent even. Somewhere behind his ribs, shame blossomed. He didn’t want Charlie to see him like this…

The door was thrown open, Charlie burst into the room with an expression twisted between concern and something Bill couldn’t readily decipher. “Are you okay?” Charlie asked; his voice was low as a whisper. “Fleur fire-called me—she wanted me to check up on you.” When all Bill did was writhe and grunt, Charlie crossed the room to snatch the curtains closed. Immediately afterwards the room was plunged in gloom; the only other source of light pouring in from the opened door.

When Charlie sat on the edge of his bed, Bill twisted against his invisible bindings as he tried to move away from the incredible warmth that radiated off of his brother’s form. “No—Charlie… you have to… you have to go…” Bill panted. His voice so deep and rasping that it sounded almost as though it didn’t belong to him. 

Charlie shushed him gently. Brushing a few flyaway hairs from Bill’s forehead and checking his older brother’s temperature, he sighed before shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the barren nightstand; one of the only fixtures in the room left unturned. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Charlie admonished softly. 

He always said the same things: how they would find a cure for Bill; how Bill would never hurt anyone; how Bill was stronger than Lycanthropy. The more he said it, the less Bill believed him. 

Especially when Fleur had stopped looking him in the eyes, growing increasingly afraid of what was staring back at her by the day.

He wasn’t stronger than Lycanthropy. There was no cure. Bill had hurt Charlie so many times; left him bloodied and broken.

Bill was a monster. He was beyond help. _Why wouldn’t Charlie just leave him be?_

Charlie’s hands were noticeably cooler than Bill’s flushed face. His calloused fingertips made Bill’s skin crawl as they caressed the line of his jaw, settling eventually at the corners of his mouth. Bill resisted the urge to turn his head, to bite down on Charlie’s hand. Instead, he let his brother guide his head back down onto his pillow.

“It’s going to be okay, Bill.” Charlie reassured, soothing away Bill’s scowl with the pads of his thumbs. 

Bill actually growled. His upper lip curling upwards, revealing his gritted teeth which were sharp with the suggestion of fangs. “Stop,” he ordered gruffly, lips brushing against Charlie’s fingers. Tasting earth and floo powder and what something that was undeniably _Charlie_ , Bill felt what little control he had beginning to slip. Suddenly, his bindings didn’t feel as secure as he’d first thought. “You’re not safe. You need to leave.” 

Charlie seemed to be oblivious to the danger he was in. Or maybe he just didn’t care. 

Charlie’s fingers felt a path down Bill’s neck, pressing his fingers in wherever he found knots. Slowly but surely, he caressed his way down to Bill’s heaving chest. Digging into the swell of Bill’s pectorals, Charlie shifted a little closer. “When’ve you known me to run away from danger?” His tone wasn’t nearly as boastful as his words; Bill could feel his younger brother’s pulse hammering, as well as smell the anxiety radiating off of Charlie.

More so than that, he could smell Charlie’s _arousal_. It was one of the strongest scents Bill had ever smelled. 

It hit Bill like a slap to the face, making him jerk away from Charlie. Bill saw red as he barked at the younger to leave him. Despite flinching from his outburst, Charlie didn't back down. Almost challengingly, the younger man moved to fully climb onto the bed. Throwing his leg over Bill’s side, he sat astride his older brother’s hips. “I’m not going anywhere, Bill, so you’d best try something else.” He pulled his shirt over his head unceremoniously then.

The scent of Charlie’s arousal tripled as the shirt was cast to the floor, drowning Bill in that familiar musky aroma that made his mouth water.

Bill’s hands tightened around his bindings. His wrists rubbed so hard against his otherworldly ties that Bill felt like he was going to dislocate something. “ _Charlie_ ,” he hissed, his own heart hammering against his ribs like it was poised to burst free from his chest. “Charlie, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” Charlie asked, undoing his belt and chucking it off someplace by the side of the bed.

“ _Don’t_ …” The older keened, trying to buck Charlie off as well as rut against him.

“Don’t what? Don’t **help** you?” 

Bill nodded drunkenly, not trusting his voice as he felt a particularly deep growl building in his chest. The beastly urge to claim his mate grew exponentially stronger as Charlie stripped more and more clothing off. The wolf within seemed to know Bill better than he knew himself, for it wanted Charlie more than anything. Lust drowned out the hunger; the pain—the heat of it spread throughout Bill’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He panted, sucking air in greedily and inadvertently breathing in more and more of Charlie’s scent; which in turn made his longing even more ferocious. It was a vicious cycle.

Bill was powerless to stop himself from bucking up against Charlie when the younger finally freed himself from his slacks. Charlie groaned, letting his head fall to the side as he felt Bill’s entire length grind across him. Deep, reverberating moans escaped Charlie's parted lips as he rocked against the stuttering movements of Bill’s hips. Meeting his brother’s gaze with half-lidded eyes, Charlie leaned over the length of Bill’s body, their faces so close that he could feel the other’s labored breath on his face. “Look at you. You’re sick, Bill—desperate. Do you really think I can leave you like this?”

Bill couldn’t answer. He could only growl and groan and struggle not to lose the internal battle he was having with the damnable beast that ached to _have_ his brother. Charlie wasn’t just some hole to fuck. Charlie was his baby-brother. A _man_. Bill couldn’t keep doing this. Charlie couldn’t keep letting this happen. 

“ **Stop** …” Bill choked. “I can’t… _you_ can’t…”

Charlie silenced him with a kiss on each of Bill’s eyelids. He knew better than to try to kiss him on the mouth, Bill would bite him; after all, Bill’d nearly taken Charlie’s bottom lip off the last time. “Stop telling me what I _can and cannot do_. Just be grateful that I’m here.” Charlie chastised before sitting upright once more. 

Watching as Charlie removed his last protective article of clothing with a mixture of helplessness and horror—lust and starvation—Bill prayed to Merlin, to whomever could hear him, that he would not hurt Charlie tonight. 

Bill howled when Charlie hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and, without much preamble, pulled them down far enough to free Bill’s straining erection. The cold air attacked his engorged flesh, making it ache with need. Charlie gripped him firmly; one hand wrapping around Bill’s thick, flushed cock to wank him off and the other holding Bill’s hip in a futile attempt to keep him from bucking so hard. “I’ve got you,” Charlie murmured over and over, scooting down the length of the bed.

Bill was too lost in the pleasure of Charlie’s hand around him to notice Charlie moving. A slave to the primal urge to thrust into the tight warmth around him, he growled and swore in a voice that was completely foreign to him. Charlie’s pace was quick; his grip tight enough to make Bill see stars—and then Charlie’s tongue licked a hot, wet stripe along the underside of Bill’s cock. 

The headboard didn’t stand a chance under Bill’s raw strength—and apparently, neither did the binding spell. Before Charlie knew it, he was on his back with Bill hovering over him as though prepared to eat him. “This is your last chance…” Bill warned breathlessly. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as large as Charlie had ever seen them.

“I take it you’re not a fan of foreplay.” Charlie jokingly said as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Charlie…” Bill snapped.

The younger man rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have come.” Tone suddenly serious, Charlie gripped the sides of Bill’s face. “I want to help you overcome this. Whatever it takes,” Lifting his legs, he wrapped them around Bill’s waist. “I’m willing to do _whatever it takes_.”

It was a good thing that Charlie prepared himself before he’d come over; at this point, Bill honestly didn’t have it in him to be gentle. Gripping Charlie’s hips in a bruising vice-like grip, Bill pushed hard into him. Charlie groaned, hands balling up in the sheets as he writhed. Forcing his body not to clench around the abrupt intrusion, Charlie inhaled sharply as he felt Bill pull out barely half-way inside, only to thrust back in. Rocking his hips into each thrust as he tried not to let the brutal pace take him under, it didn’t take long for Charlie to find his own pleasure. 

They grunted and groaned like beasts, barreling towards their release as they moved together in tandem. Bill came first, his release wracking through him like a bolt of lightning. He howled and shuddered, but his thrusts never faltered. As he emptied his seed inside of Charlie, his pace became faster and more frantic. 

Charlie panted harshly, unable to catch his breath. Throwing his arms around Bill’s neck, he pulled the older man down onto him. Burying his face into the thick red tresses that fell down Bill’s shoulders, Charlie panted as he felt his own orgasm seize him. He came between their stomachs with a dry moan. 

He knew not to relax, though; one time wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Bill.

Hypersensitivity made Bill’s hard abs rubbing against Charlie’s cock more painful than anything else, but he writhed and keened all the same. Charlie was willing to do _whatever it took_. 

When it was all said and done, when the sun stained the otherwise black horizon with brilliant shades of red and gold, Charlie pulled himself out of bed. 

Despite the pain, the bruises, the deep unsettling ache inside of him, the guilt of taking advantage of Bill when he was not of-sound mind—despite how _wrong_ it is to be  fucked by your brother, despite everything, Charlie could actually smile at the sight of Bill’s chest rising and falling slowly. 

He had survived another full moon. 

When Charlie got in-contact with Fleur, it was days later. Keeping his voice neutral, he asked about Bill’s condition and the two of them exchanged pleasantries. Fleur’s tone betrayed her relief, she told Charlie that Bill’s fever had passed and he was almost back to normal. She was none the wiser. 

Saying goodbye, Charlie smiled. Sinking into the bathtub and letting the warm water soothe his aches, Charlie stared at the calendar tacked onto the wall opposite of him. 

He was looking forward to the next full moon already.


End file.
